“I have heard to-day—from a source that I fear is only too reliable—certain reports concerning you, which in justice to you I must ask you to deny or confirm,” said Mr. Lambert.
“What are they, uncle?” asked Paul.
“I was told—and by one of my most respected fellow-citizens—that you have been seen not once, but at least half a dozen time of late with a young man of a most undesirable character and reputation—Jefferson Roberts. Could my informant have been mistaken? Have you or have you not seen this young man several times—recently?”
Paul swallowed. The entire family was aghast, for it was very plain that Mr. Lambert was deeply angered.
“Well?” said the old merchant. “Is this true?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“You knew what my feelings would be if I learned that this was true?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Yes,” repeated Mr. Lambert, “I think you knew very well that you were disobeying my strictest injunctions. Just before Christmas you were—or could have been—seen with this notorious youth—a gambler, a rascal, a shameless loafer. When I learned of this, I pardoned you, thinking that you might not have known how deeply outraged I should feel at discovering that any member of my household should wish to associate with such a person. But now you have disobeyed me without such excuse. What am I to think? You give me no choice but to believe that you find pleasure in disobeying me, and mortifying me.”
After a pause, he went on,